For days she had been reminding herself that the Cap she knew so well was gone. This man she was going to marry would look nothing like the boy she had grown up with. Where her Cap had been strong and lithe and restless, this man would sit quietly. He would be gaunt and flushed and feverish, and he would cough until he was bloody with it. What she could do for him medically was limited, but she could give him some peace of mind. She would look at him and not see the illness; she would put that aside, and concentrate on the man held hostage by the disease.
The familiar gave her some comfort: the gardens that framed the front of the house, perfectly kept, backed with blossoming magnolia trees. Each flower stood proudly upright like a fat pink candle on a leafless branch. Mrs. Harrison’s beloved pansies overflowed the pots standing sentry to either side of the door, as old-fashioned and sweet as the housekeeper herself.
As soon as Sophie set foot on the walkway, before she could think about knocking, the front door opened and gave her the day’s first surprise. Cap’s uncle Conrad stood beaming at her, and just behind him were Bram and Baltus Decker, Cap’s cousins and best friends. The Decker twins, who had been as unruly as wild ponies as children and had not changed much with age.
“Here she is, Uncle.” Bram touched Conrad’s elbow as Sophie approached.
The older man’s mouth quirked in a familiar expression. “I’m blind, Bram,” he said with his usual great dignity. “Not deaf. I hear her.” He held out both hands, and Sophie took them.
“Sophie, my dear,” he said softly. “High time. High time indeed.”
“You look surprised to see us,” Baltus said, kissing Sophie’s cheek. “Did you imagine we’d miss the fun?”
“Cap wanted us here at seven in case you came to breakfast,” his brother added. “But you didn’t, and so we had to do right by Mrs. Mack’s pancakes without you.”
Conrad said, “You see these two are as measured and mature as ever, Sophie. You should go ahead, Cap is waiting for you.
“Give a shout when you’re ready,” Bram said. “And we’ll bring the photographer up. If he ever gets here.”
Sophie stopped short. “Photographer?”
“For the engagement announcement. Got to have a picture, says Cap. Quite insistent.”
Sophie looked from Bram and Baltus to Conrad.
“The family hasn’t been told yet,” Conrad said, as if she had put a question into words. “But that’s not something to worry you. Go on now, he’s waiting for you.”
Sophie got no farther than the first landing, where Mrs. Harrison was waiting, her eyes red-rimmed and damp. At the sight of Sophie two teardrops rolled down her cheeks. “Miss Sophie,” she said. “It’s so good to see you, so good I could just cry.”
“You are crying, Mrs. Harrison.” Sophie took her handkerchief from her cuff and blotted the old woman’s cheeks. “How is your lumbago?”
“Never mind about me,” said Mrs. Harrison, waving a hand as if to discourage a fly. She picked up a small silver tray from the table beside her and held it out to Sophie. There was a mask of fine mesh and a pair of gloves. Both smelled vaguely of carbolic acid. Sophie was not surprised that Cap would have made such arrangements, but Mrs. Harrison looked embarrassed.
“It’s perfectly all right,” Sophie said. “I don’t mind at all.”
It was a lie; she hated the fact that such things were necessary, but she would not make a fuss over something that could not be changed.
“Miss Sophie,” Mrs. Harrison’s voice trembled.
Sophie reminded herself that Mrs. Harrison had raised Cap; she had been in the household when he was born and when his parents died, and all throughout his aunt May’s tenure. When Cap left this house for Europe she would never see him again.
“Yes?”
“He’s weak,” she said. “But he’s settled. I couldn’t say comfortable, but he’s so much more settled since—well, now that you’re here. He’s content.”
Content was a word Sophie disliked intensely. Content was constrained and devoid of hope for more or better. Content would not do for Cap. But she nodded and thanked the housekeeper for her help, and then she went up to him.
? ? ?
WITHOUT HESITATION SOPHIE opened the door, walked into Cap’s room, and then, quietly, closed the door behind herself.
It was a gesture more telling than any other, that they should close themselves off alone in a room. She took a moment to contemplate the significance of this simple thing, and then she turned to the windows.
He sat in a high-backed armchair, a folded blanket over his lap. He was smiling at her as she smiled at him behind her mask. The idea came to her just then that he would never see her face again, and that was simply unacceptable. Sophie let the mask drop to hang around her neck and walked toward him. She saw his expression shift from confusion to wariness to distress and stop just short of anger because by then she had knelt beside his chair and put her hands on his shoulders, leaned forward, and touched her cheek to his.
“Oh, no,” he said, his voice just a whisper. “No, Sophie. You shouldn’t have come if you can’t keep yourself safe from me.”
But he held on to her with all the meager strength of his arms, and Sophie was glad. She was glad to hold him like this, as little as it was.